We have at least nine separate bus stops at our corner. And today is the first day of school, so they’re all out there in droves. The kids are in their hip new school clothes (soon to be replaced with the regular dirty t-shirt and sweatpants), clean backpacks filled with fresh, empty notebooks and sharp pencils (soon to be replaced with candy wrappers and molding lunch box food). The parents are clutching cups of coffee (secretly wishing they had added a ‘bump’ this morning) and wrestling with dogs on leashes, wondering how their kid can possibly already be in (___) grade and trying not to think about that new gray hair they noticed in the mirror this morning.
This is the first “first day” in 16 years that I am not making back to school breakfast. I’m not taking a first day picture. I didn’t make something fun for kids to eat after school and I don’t have a special dinner planned. In fact, we badly need groceries and to be honest, I’m simply trying to find the will to get dressed. No, all my kids and bonus kids are off, elsewhere, having their ‘other lives’...
Early this morning, I woke to my usual daily rage about the yipping dog down the block. And as I lay there mentally preparing for the conversation I will eventually have with the owner of said dog, here came the busses. As I listened, the same old feelings of anticipation/excitement/fear/nostalgia came flooding in. I remember so vividly standing at the bus stop with the small humans I created, wondering aloud with them about what they’d do that day or listing the friends they already knew in their class to help relieve first day jitters. Later, the humans got larger and were not necessarily created by me and sometimes we were dropping off in a car rather than waiting for the bus. But the conversations were always the same. And because, through their life circumstance, my kids attended a few different schools, I always tried to keep some tradition alive. But here I was this morning, just listening to the busses and wondering how all the kids are doing and also wondering if it was too soon to send another good luck message (the answer is yes, it was too soon).
I guess I could have driven out to Stillwater and forced my son to endure a picture he doesn’t want me to take. But to what end? It seems like this year, I just need to face it. The jig is up, Gina. And there isn’t a photo or back to school cake that’s gonna change it. Life moves on. Oh sure, I was included on a text message “first day photo” from my husband’s ex-wife of Raena off to 7th grade (should I be exceedingly delighted over this since ex-wife has perfected pretending that I do not exist in the world?). But even that felt like further evidence of my failure to accept the truth.
Ok, let’s stop for a sec. I know how this sounds. I’m THAT woman. That middle aged woman who doesn’t have anything else in her life but being a mom. But here’s the thing. I DO have other things in my life. My life is so full, I am constantly cleaning up the mess when it overflows. It’s just that...I really love being a mom. Maybe I’ll do something yet in my life that’s more important. But, I don’t actually think I will. I created these cool people who are pretty fucking amazing and I don’t regret one single moment I spent attending to their every need and driving them to music lessons and reading endless books with them and volunteering in their classes while my own career was literally expiring and probably overparenting to the nth degree. And this life transition of kids growing up and moving on. Well, it’s hard. And for that I’m not going to apologize. In fact, I’m going to avoid work just a little longer and go into the basement and dig through the photographs and cry as much as I feel like.
I went on social media this morning to share the first day fun with my various contacts (masochistic fool that I am). In addition to the smiling faces and cute, nostalgic comments, I suspect there are others out there feeling melancholy. Not the “I’m so sad summer is over” of kids going back to school (who will be back soon enough to drive you crazy), but the melancholy of life. Life changing. Life moving. Life is good...great, even. But man, life is hard sometimes.
Peace, friends, as you swim in the sea of change...
(and to my kids: I’ve got a great dinner planned for the next time we are all together!)
